


Oil and Candy

by zhem1x5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Episode: s03e08 A Very Supernatural Christmas, Gen, Little Brother Sam, the ongoing candy debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/zhem1x5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's time is ticking down and all he wants is one more Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oil and Candy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a similar though sexual relationship based story for my darling teapot for Christmas. I can't share that without asking her, but this one you guys can have.

Sam stared vaguely at the randomly stocked metal shelves and rows. Tinny lighthearted music pumped through the crackling speakers overhead and down another aisle Sam could hear someone humming along but he was so wrapped up in his head --in everything-- that he couldn't remember the words to a song he had annoyed Dean with every Christmas for ten years.

He walked silently up and down the aisles, looking at things. Picking them up only to put them down and move on, only to come back again a few seconds later. Because what -could- he get Dean this year.

What single gift could encompass their lives, the things they had been through, the things they had lost- Mom, Dad, Jess, Sam, and now Dean.

What could a gas station have to offer for something so important.

Sam fingered the crumpled bills in his pocket. There weren't many, and they weren't even of a high denomination, but they were his. Fair and square, no hustling, nothing illegal.

Even in a gas station they wouldn't amount to much of a gift. Especially since he hadn't given Dean one since they were kids.

He wandered, killing time more than anything, though the cashier kept darting nervous looks in his direction and shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Sam wanted to stop him and tell him he wasn't going to rob him but figured that was even more suspicious than his dedicated lingering.

He had to find something and fast. It was Christmas Day and even convenience stores had to close sometime. 

Sam looked up from several long seconds contemplating his shoelaces to find he'd wandered into the candy aisle. Not surprising. When they were kids, he and Dean used to barrel into a store and head straight for those brightly colored cardboard boxes. Dad had only ever allowed them one every few months. Sugared up kids were not ideal in a world of hunters and Dad's patience had been short even on good days.

Dean made fun of his fondness for sugar, but Dean had always had the bigger sweet tooth.

A familiar name caught his eye and with a fond grin Sam reached out and took a bar off the shelf. Whatchamacallits were Dean's favorite candy bars. Purely for the name at first and then for the peanut butter and caramel. Sam preferred Thingamajigs, chocolate and peanut butter and full of so much more sugar. 

They argued for weeks over which was the better candy bar, ignoring that they were exactly the same.

Sam carried that candy bar around like it was the Holy Grail, careful not to smash or break it. He offered the clerk a small smile as he circled the store again.

He couldn't show up with just a candy bar. Not after all the fuss and their bickering over even celebrating Christmas this year.

He cast a quick glance over the entire store, separated into categories that only the cashier ever seemed to understand. Chips and household cleaner, candy and car mats, all ridiculously overpriced but a necessary evil when you spent your entire life on the road. Two liters of soda and giant jugs of every fluid a vehicle might need, better pricing but still too high for what you got.

It wasn't quite right but still Sam came back over and over.

Sam lifted a regular jug of motor oil, thinking about the goofy grin on Dean's face when he cracked open a fresh bottle. Anything for his Baby. Tinkering and puttering under the hood like an old man in his shed. Comfortable and relaxed for the only time in his life when that hood was up and the Impala's guts were exposed. Home.

The Impala was home for Dean. 

Sam held the candy bar and motor oil in his hands, staring at them and trying to decide, justify, explain to himself, why he was going to give something so non-traditional and simple to his brother for his last Christmas.

Trying to know if he could stand knowing that he'd given Dean a candy bar and a bottle of motor oil before he died. 

"It's complicated," he admitted to the young man behind the counter.

A vague nod answered him before his items were scanned. Motor oil and a candy bar.

Oh! "Can I get a newspaper, too," he spoke absently, watching his purchases slip into a bag. A candy bar and motor oil.

Sam handed over his small wad of cash and accepted a few coins in return, picking up his bag gingerly. Oil and candy.

He'd bought his 29-year-old brother a candy bar and motor oil for Christmas.

Their first Christmas in years and it was Dean's last.

Sam looked down into his recycled plastic bag and hoped it was enough.


End file.
